The World is Ours
by royal-chandler
Summary: Written for the prompt of: Just a little lovin', early in the mornin'.


**Title:** The World is Ours  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> ~2,600 MW  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Response to a prompt from LJ: _Just a little lovin', early in the mornin'._  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't anything X-Men. I'm nowhere near cool enough but Marvel and Fox are.  
><strong>AN:** Oh goodness, this isn't beta'd. Feel free to point out anything. And for this fic to work, the beach scene didn't take place. Erik and Charles had a happy ending.

Like always, Charles hears Erik before he wakes. Usually the thoughts are reminiscent of a dying storm, a nightmare that ebbs mercifully in Erik's last moments of subconscious but this morning what bathes Charles is a happiness that's bright and almost blinding—bewildering coming from Erik—but when the other man flickers his eyes open, Charles sees the contented truth. His smile is unrestrained. "Good morning."

"Will you always be up before me?" Erik mumbles, a reluctant upturning at the corner of his lips brings about a yawn, which indicates that Erik is still tired and there's a great chance that he will fall asleep again at some point.

"Most likely, yes," Charles answers. He stretches out a fond hand, cups the stubble that covers Erik's jaw and strokes it lightly. "Considering your tendency to ignore the rising sun and turn your head at precisely six each morning."

Erik laughs at that. It's a beautiful sound that Charles continues to willingly drown in—to push past his ears, envelope him until all fades to the deep and gravely jumble that's still airy due to its lack of use. Charles is working on that. "I want to doubt the accuracy of that but truth be told, you would document something so trivial."

"It's hardly so," Charles insists gently because leaning toward Erik and pressing their lips together. "I find your sleep pattern striking and fascinating. I wouldn't have guessed you'd be so against the early morning. It's endearing. As are many other things that I'm beginning to learn about you."

Smiles still touching, Erik says, "I thought you knew everything about me, Professor."

"I wasn't wrong." Charles bites at the bottom lip that's too appealing to not press his teeth into. "Although I'll admit that there's always more to learn."

"Is that right?" Erik draws back and regards Charles with a gaze that is mischievous and cunning and testing. He pushes at the sheets that made way between them during the late night and moves to hover above Charles. Heat radiates off of his skin that has been warmed by slumber and sun. The shine from the window does mesmerizing things to his eyes, nearly steals the air from Charles' lungs. "What do you see yourself learning today?"

Charles feigns deliberation. "Well I'm open-minded to a vast amount of subjects so it has the potential to be anything, many things. Why? Do you know of a topic I should be narrowing in on?"

Lowering his body, Erik replies, "I wouldn't call it a topic—that's insulting actually—but yes. Your focus is essential and demanded elsewhere."

A delighted hum later, Charles passes his hand between them, finds the matter that demands his attention. He takes pleasure in the moan that escapes Erik and Charles strokes his half-hard cock slowly and teasing, isn't quick to touch the head. "How am I doing so far?"

"You're adequate," Erik states disapprovingly after a moment and Charles watches the darkening of his eyes, pleased. "You'll need teaching."

He gets from out of Charles' grip and lowers himself between the younger man's legs, pulls and bends them wide. His large hand travels the length of one, tickles at the sensitive curve-in behind Charles' knee and then kisses the hard cap with a rare tenderness. The affection soon goes farther up to the inside of Charles' thigh and he gasps at the feel of Erik's hot breath there, the moist tip of his tongue so close to where Charles needs it. "Oh God."

A lick passes over the skin—obscene. "Not quite."

Erik's lips latch on and suck hard, pulling until teeth meet flesh. Charles knows that he'll come across a bruise in the shower later on. "More. Please, Erik."

The request isn't immediately met and Charles opens his mouth—not ashamed to beg again—but it's a cry of encouragement when Erik's mouth takes in one of his balls and tongues behind them. "Yes, yes, yes." _Yes, Erik._

Callused and dry, Erik's hand fists Charles' cock and slightly pulls at it to lap and suck. It takes no time to turn fast and messy, squelching noises already starting without even a proper blowjob.

And he must communicate that to Erik somehow because within the next few seconds, the other man is no longer alternating between Charles' balls. Erik stripes a smooth and wet line to underneath the crown of Charles' cock before swallowing the head behind chapped lips that feel incredibly sensational. "Dear God."

Charles bends at his waste to dare a peek at Erik and shivers at the stretch he sees, how red and glossy Erik's mouth has become. But his beautiful eyes are closed, lashes resting atop his cheekbones lax and unmoving. There'd be no having of that.

"Er—," Charles starts, voice rough and clogged with his emotions and Erik's own. He tries again, quieter albeit just as desperate. "Erik, look at me. Your eyes—want to see your eyes."

Erik does as he asks and Charles' feels his heart inflate like a balloon—full, large and undeniably vulnerable. The raw passion reflected in Erik's eyes strikes not one chord in him but an entire symphony's worth. He understands that Erik does not seek to please easily, that he doesn't give freely and that Charles is the first he's ever felt the need to. Charles knows all of this because he has experienced it but it doesn't take away the shock each time, the vivid evidence of how Erik feels for him. It's humbling, and such a blessing Charles knows. He knows the worth of it to Erik and he yearns–wants nothing more than for Erik to know the same—that it's the same for Charles.

He brushes back the hair that has fallen onto Erik's forehead, keeps his fingers in the dark locks to help ground himself as Erik continues to bob on his cock.

The clasp of Erik's mouth tightens and drags like a vacuum down the length until he sharply inhales and takes in most of it again. He also does the vacuum once more, this time with bolder suction and a pleasant buzz, and Charles knows that he'll be only able to stand so many repetitions of that routine.

"Erik," he warns with a yank to his head. "You—you've got to." The hot back of a throat touches him faintly. "God. Let up!"

Erik growls in refusal and dear that does not help at all. "Erik. I'm serious."

Clearly wanting to drive Charles mad, Erik doesn't let up, speeds up his movements instead and it's amazing, honestly and if Charles was one brain cell shorter he'd give in but this isn't what he wants. It's not enough.

Speech making no way through, Charles goes another route: _Love,_ in me. _I need you in me, Erik. God please. Need you._

And Charles has never been more grateful to hear that dirty, distinctive pop.

Erik covers him full-body once again, dropping a stained and adoring kiss onto his lips before tonguing his way into Charles' mouth, slow and lazy and utterly distracting. He's thorough because he's aware of how much Charles enjoys the taste of his own cock. Something he shared unintentionally but has yet to regret doing. They stop kissing only when it feels like death is imminent.

Heads stuck together in half-exhaustion, Erik grins breathless. He pecks at Charles thrice—at his nose, his upper lip and beneath his left eye—the softness of the gesture belying his rocky exterior. "What were you saying?"

"Technically," Charles has to allow for another breath and he momentarily wonders if he's out of shape or if it's a habit of being around Erik. "I didn't speak. Stop stalling, Erik."

Without another word, Erik climbs off of him. Before he has a chance to get off of the bed, Charles says, "They're underneath the bed."

He feels Erik begin to argue. Charles shoots a dark glare and through clinched teeth, says, "Erik, now is not the time to be contradictory with me. Under the bed."

Nowhere near being intimidated, Erik gives him a look that is amused, fond. At the edge of the mattress, he reaches underneath and finds the lubrication and condoms where Charles said they'd be.

"Do you want to prepare yourself?" Erik asks and Charles nods, accepts the coolness of the lube when Erik squirts it onto the ends of his fingers.

When he's got it evenly distributed, Charles reaches in between his legs, behind his sex to his entrance. He circles the tight muscle before pushing a knuckle past it. He and Erik groan simultaneously.

"God Charles," Erik rasps as he rolls the condom onto his own cock, slicks it. "You don't have the slightest idea."

A full finger in and almost ready for a second, Charles silently prompts, _Then show me._

Erik makes haste to replace Charles' finger with his own, expertly loosens him to the point of being able to take another. Charles grabs hold of his wrist, urges him to go harder, deeper, fill him with more. Erik pushes in a third and Charles arches up, nails unrelenting.

"Yeah? Does that feel good, Charles?" Erik thrusts harder, his sharper jabs causing Charles to scrape at his skin.

"Yes, yes," Charles assures him on a grunt-slash-whine, tries to grind down and get purchase. "Please. Now, Erik."

Erik removes his fingers and soon presses into Charles with a harsh, stuttering pair of huffs. The arms he's braced close to Charles' head to support himself shake. Charles wraps his legs so that his feet rest in the dip above Erik's ass; he circles his hands around Erik's biceps, comforting. "You're all right."

It's always like this for them when they get to this moment. It's never been ordinary or familiar, it won't ever be. It's unbelievable, hard to grasp that people, whether mutant or human, are still able feel this way—can still become inextricable from someone else. So Charles places sweet kisses onto Erik's swollen mouth, mutes the fear that's attempting to stir up trouble, lets him know that it's _okay_ to have this. _You're okay._

A calm settles and they rock steady in tandem, their hips rolling slow.

Erik's thrusts are deep and tight, barely leaving any space between the two of them. This is the part that Charles' loves, re-realizing how well he and Erik's mechanics fit together—almost as perfectly as their essences, which Charles is sure were at a time one—at the basic beginnings of evolution.

Drawing back farther and slamming back in harder, Erik's pace turns to a frantic pulse—sparks with abandon, truly in tune with everything he is. He drives into Charles with a punctuating slap of skin that goes off rhythm in a small measure of their pants. They're both close and as if on an instinct, Erik makes a switch in angle, causing his snaps to target that spot that sometimes has the ability to best the chaos in Charles' head.

_God Erik. Yes. Yes. Right there. Please, don't stop._

_I won't. Fuck, Charles. I won't—too good._

He reaches a hand between them and tugs at Charles' cock in a pattern of twists, pulls and jerks until it's just senseless pumping. He occupies his mouth at the base of Charles' throat, so when he urges Charles to come it's without words. It's in the want of his hips, the need in his hand, the wanton lust of his stare—all asking Charles to be with him, for Charles to be at his side, now and always.

Charles comes with a choked cry, hollows his back and clings to Erik, who follows right after him—both of them trembling and barely attached to the world around them, hanging heavy on threads.

Their labored breathing is loud in the quiet morning and along with the chirps outside of the windows, they're slowly brought down back to Earth.

They search for oxygen in the curves of one another's shoulders, Erik going as far as to yawn into Charles'.

Chuckling, Charles says, "Really? It was that great? Tell me more, Erik. All of that was riveting." He bites at Erik lightly.

"I'm sorry," Erik replies apologetically, low and rough. He bears his teeth in a smirk, an indent in Charles' too hot skin. "You know how I am."

"Yes," Charles whispers, inhaling the sweat that's a part of Erik until his next shower. "Yes, I do. Still not an excuse for yawning after a very satisfying set of orgasms, however. It's rude."

"Stop preaching at me, Charles." Erik rolls off of him. "I'll be right back," he tells Charles prior to heading into the bathroom. He returns with a small wet towel, uses it to clean them off, especially generous around Charles' waist, lets the cool cloth linger. Erik then flings it to the floor and collapses back onto the bed. He slips his body underneath the covers once again, snug at Charles' side.

Erik is starting to drift away when Charles suddenly remembers. He turns on to his side, considers the man carefully."Erik?"

"Hmm," Erik responds, eyes half-lidded—on the brink of a temporary peace.

"You were dreaming before. What you felt, it was amazing," Charles comments softly. "Will you tell me about it?"

Erik's brows pinch together and he stares at Charles, suspicious. "Did you bring it about?"

"What? No," Charles says earnestly, faithfully. He shifts closer to Erik and tangles their limbs. Concerned, he asks, "Why? What's wrong?"

Grumbling, Erik responds. "I'd rather not tell you."

Charles frowns and questions again, "Why?"

"Because I'm sure that even your impressive mind can't rid away the bitter taste of _I told you so_." He continues with a put-upon sigh, "I dreamt of things that I've never witnessed, that are completely foreign to me in every way imaginable."

"Like what?" Erik tenses and doesn't answer, causes Charles to kick him at him. "Why are you being so mysterious, Erik? Just tell me."

Expression clear and unguarded, Erik says uncertainly and with zero comfort, "I dreamt of a bright future. A world that is unfathomable to me. We were here with the kids and dozens of others, faces that weren't familiar but not strange either—associating with humans as allies. You and I stood side by side, walked the same path. It was eerie."

Charles smiles, keeps the sheer glee from it remarkably well. "So you think that it was prophetic?"

"I wouldn't put much investment into that. I'm not psychic. It was nothing more than an illusion created by your constant nagging," Erik counters on another yawn. "You've talked off my ear so much that I'm beginning to have nightmares influenced by you and your endless speeches on diplomacy—which I still believe to be stupidly naïve."

A stubborn line forms on Erik's lips and Charles' kisses it chastely, proudly. He thumbs along it to bring out the grin he knows is hiding there. "Or perhaps it was your subconscious letting you know that there is a potential in human and mutant co-existence."

Something flashes across Erik's eyes before they roll and close, so fast that Charles is given no time to even guess at what it is. "Charles, you are intolerable. Go away." He turns his nose into the pillows and buries in.

Charles decides to let it drop for now, sees no need to push. Instead he asks, "You don't want to have breakfast with me?"

"Too early," Erik says into the pillows muffled. He curls into Charles with the likeliness of a cat.

"Laze about! It's nearly nine!"

Erik's only response to that is a well-timed snore.


End file.
